"M. David!" exclaimed the young woman, "it is impossible for you to abandon us in this way!" "Madame--" "I tell you, that you shall not leave, no, you cannot have the heart to do it. My only, my last hope is in you, because--you know it well, oh, my God!--I have no one in the world to help me but you!" "Madame, a word, I implore you." Marie, clasping her hands, continued in a supplicating voice: "Mercy, M. David, be good and generous to the end. Why are you discouraged? The transports of my son have ceased, he has given up his plans for vengeance. That is already a great deal, and that I owe to your influence. Frederick's dejection increases, but that is no reason for despair. My God! My God! Perhaps you think me ungrateful, because I express my gratitude to you so poorly. It is not my fault. My poor child seems as dear to you as to me. Sometimes you say _our_ Frederick; then I forget that you are a stranger who has had pity on us! Your tenderness toward my son seems to me so sincere that I am no more astonished at your devotion to him than at my own." In his astonishment, David had not at first been able to find a word; then he experienced such delight in hearing Marie portray her gratitude in such a touching manner that, in spite of himself, he did not reassure her, perhaps, as soon as he could have done so. Nevertheless, reproaching himself for not putting an end to the agony of this unhappy woman, he said: "Will you listen to me, madame?" "No, no," cried she, with the impetuosity of grief and entreaty. "Oh, you surely will have pity, you will not kill me with despair, after having made me hope so much! How can I do without you now? Oh, my God! what do you think will become of us if you go away? Oh, monsieur, there is one memory which is all-powerful with you, the memory of your brother. In the name of this memory, I implore you not to abandon Frederick. You have been as tender with him as if he were your own child or your own brother. These are sacred links which unite you and me, and you will not break these links without pity; no, no, it cannot be possible!" And sobs stifled the voice of the young woman. Tears came also to the eyes of David, and he hastened to say to Madame Bastien, in a voice full of emotion: "I do not know, madame, what has made you think that I intended to go away. Nothing was farther from my thought." "Really!" exclaimed Marie, in a voice which cannot be described. "And if I must tell you, madame, while I have not been discouraged, I have realised the difficulty of our task; but to-day, at this hour, for the first time I have good hope." "My God, you hear him!" murmured Marie with religious fervour. "May this hope not be in vain!"